


Snap and whisper

by Jenwryn



Category: Longmire (TV)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-11
Updated: 2013-08-11
Packaged: 2017-12-23 03:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/921456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jenwryn/pseuds/Jenwryn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Across town, Walt Longmire lies asleep, and they cannot think of him at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snap and whisper

**Author's Note:**

> Oh god why.
> 
> (For what it's worth, I've only watched the first half of Season 1. And I was actually in the middle of writing something else, but then this happened. So be it.)

_I wipe my brow and I sweat my rust  
I’m breathing in the chemicals_

_Imagine Dragons.[Radioactive](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ktvTqknDobU)_. 

*

The heat is from more than the fire and it beats against her face, flickering. It sticks to the damp of her skin, of her neck and of her shoulders, flushed. Chest heaving, breasts heavy; _yes, there, that, oh_. Henry’s hands are hot and broad, rough from his work and the washing of glasses. They skate across Vic’s skin like syrup’d promises, touching to tease, touching to treat; touching, as she arches towards him, breath rough as corrugations, and pulls him closer still. 

His fingers jag her nipples. Make her gasp. Her fingers catch his hair. Make him grin with teeth. 

Wolf and fellow wolf.

The soft bite of booze laces their kisses, bitter, but they are not drunk. There has been drinking, yes, but their whiskeys stands half full and warming. Forget the drink, drink the forgetting; and Vic loops Henry in, kissing deeper. It’s mouths and it’s tongues, and it’s biology, but it’s also tight, tight, flicking-licking-panting; sucking, as her knees spread wider beneath his touch. Fucking, up onto his fingers, as he strokes against her, as he rubs, petted and petting, before sliding them deep. Knuckles, brushing. Fingerprints, inside. Mark her, hold her, make her feel. Vic bucks, spread on the blanket beneath him. Tips her hips. Counts the scratch of his fingers thrumming on the spots she needs the most. Loses count. Jerks and laughs, swears and wheezes. Half beneath him; his body is bare and beautiful in the light of the flames that dance, dance behind him. She clutches at him, and drags him deeper. 

Outside, snow falls on Wyoming. Weather, curling and cutting. Freezing to trees and to door locks. But here. Here there’s the fire, and here there’s Henry; Henry. Vic lets herself drown in the warmth and the honey; the heat and the heated. Wood cracks in the fireplace - logs settling - logs protesting. Snap and whisper. Fuck and fuck her. Vic speaks of something, speaks of nothing, as Henry brings her on and hard and good; crying, crying she comes, coughed-out shouts of lust and loving. _Henry, Henry, Henry, God._

(Across town, Walt Longmire lies passed out on his bed or his lounge chair, a book lost at his feet, or a brochure. Rainier cans. And they don’t think of him, neither of them do, not Vic nor Henry. No. No, they can’t think of him at all.)

  (Dispel him.)

Snap and heat. Lie and fuck. They cling, cling, and Vic’s hands bite tight. Planes of Henry’s back slippery beneath her fingers, planes of her hips slippery beneath their sweat, and the slide of _her_ , wet, that Henry strokes up, strokes up her body as he releases his hand and hitches her legs against him. As he slides himself home inside of her. Hard. Hot. Christ, the weight of him, the weight of them, the _real_ of it; pressing, pressing, pressing like the stars and the snow beneath them. Cast out, seek out, this, here, thrust, trust, gasp, thrust. Nails on skin. Lips on teeth. The firewood burns and the whiskey melts its ice like kisses on broken skin. Hush. Fuck. Hush. Snowflakes and heaving. Sex and sweat, and they hold on, tight, hold on, tight, and the night ticks along around them. 

(Across town, Walt Longmire dreams and dreams, and cannot dream of anything but them.)

  ( _Henry, Henry, Henry, Vic_.)


End file.
